


Testimony

by thistlestickle



Series: This Changes Nothing [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Battle of Hogwarts, Family, First War with Voldemort, Flashbacks, Gen, Harry Potter Next Generation, Marauders' Era, Post-Hogwarts, Pureblood Politics, Pureblood Society, Reconciliation, Second War with Voldemort, The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, Wizengamot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-25
Updated: 2015-01-25
Packaged: 2018-03-09 02:02:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3232127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thistlestickle/pseuds/thistlestickle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is about family, and what happens after.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Testimony

**Author's Note:**

> J. K. started it. It shows no sign of letting up seventeen years after I cracked the spine of my first Harry Potter book.
> 
> EWE, loose canon for post-publication clarifications and retcons, and I rewrote this completely, so sorry about that, if you ever re-read this (and thank you to those who left kudos and comments previously).

Andromeda flops down on the old settee, ignoring the prickle of the coarse hair covering through her nightdress. It is warm and sticky indoors and out. The house is still and silent.

Exhaling deliberately, she  feels drained and brittle. The knot of nameless anxiety never seems to leave her stomach, the bags under her eyes carry a weight of tearful exhaustion. Ten weeks of single handedly caring for baby Teddy, now nearly three months old and still not sleeping through the night, has been an easy distraction against the agonising loss of her husband, daughter, and Remus.

The muffled bong of the clock tower drifts in from the village, heralding yet another night spent camped anywhere but bed. The mug of tea precariously dangling from one hand as she dozes has slipped from her grasp as she nods off more deeply, soaking her right slipper with cold tea. Andromeda wakes with a huff of annoyance. 

In the other room, Teddy Lupin sleeps peacefully, a chubby fist clenched around the tail of a stuffed pelican, a recent gift from his godfather. Andromeda often stands over Teddy in his crib, taking in the soft turquoise curls that cover his head, the tiny eyelashes twitching ever so slightly, the outline of his little feet and chunky legs discernable underneath one of a dozen hand-knitted, much-darned sleep sacks that Molly Weasley has dug out of her attic.

Andromeda looks on for a bit at her  small and bitter miracle, and then she paces the familiar path from his room to the living room, to the kitchen to make another cup of tea, and back again. She no longer sleeps in their bed. Often, she no longer sleeps.

Tonight she won’t write to Harry, as she often does. This week has been difficult, too difficult, but Andromeda finds that she lacks words to adequately describe it. Having successfully avoided the majority of the post-war boilerplate and having no neighbours with whom to gossip about her own third-page headlines, Andromeda has spent the last four days giving testimony about Narcissa. Harry has taken the opposite approach to facing the aftermath of the war, she knows; information has leaked through in some of his letters, in between the prattle about cleaning up the school grounds and preparing for NEWTS, as information has leaked through in her conversations with Molly, with Arthur, and the others. She justifies this cultivated ignorance with the preoccupation of caring for Teddy. Even if she could figure out how to talk about her feelings, sharing that familial horror with a traumatised seventeen year old boy… Andromeda sighs. He's much too young for all this, and she feels much too old.

Teddy does require round the clock care, of course. On top of being an infant, the uncertainty around his werewolf heritage has required her full focus during moon cycles. Teddy has shown no lupine behavioural tendencies nor any inclination to transform, although on the nights of the full moon his eyes turn a hungry amber and his cries are closer to howls.

Narcissa was arrested a few days after the final battle, Andromeda knows that much. From others, she gleans that her sister, brother in law, and their son have been detained, wandless, under house arrest rather than being remanded to Azkaban. Apparently the Minister of Magic sides with the Headmistress over the detention of underage wizards and those of age who had not left school, despite public outcry over the Malfoys in particular. Andromeda supposed, in line with this approach, that terrible legacy of generations of pureblood machinations would not (yet) be laid at the door of the youngest and only heir of the House.

She has no strong feelings about Draco. Andromeda has never properly met the boy, though third-hand, it seems he could hardly have been responsible for much of anything.

Andromeda, like everyone else, had not been present for the end of Draco’s closed testimony - again, the Minister and Headmistress had intervened to protect the vulnerable - but according to Harry, who gave evidence on Draco’s behalf several months ago, it had shocked no one examining the growing pile of evidence that all roads led back to Lucius Malfoy - and of course, to Voldemort. Narcissa was almost invisible in the picture of the family's wrongdoing, but Andromeda knew better than to think of her sister as some innocent caught up in Lucius' machinations.

⇝

The Wizengamot had not been unkind to her in their lines of questioning, but Andromeda feels sucked dry. Every painful event of the last thirty years is laid bare for the court to understand the context in which her extended family had tried to help burn down Wizarding and Muggle society. She is certain it will have been all over the papers, but she stopped subscribing over a year ago, when Ted went missing.

Andromeda exhales again, pushing all the air out of her body with sudden force, trying to blow the cloud away. Maybe today she will take Teddy somewhere nice, or maybe someone can come round for lunch, if the Prophet reporters are camped out in the garden again. It is nearing four o’clock which is, after all, nearly six o’clock, which is a reasonable time to be awake. As her breath leaves her body, she sinks back into her thoughts, absently tracing the lip of a fresh mug of tea.

⇝

A wail cuts through the quiet of the house, snapping Andromeda back to the present. She pads through to Teddy’s crib and lifts the crying lad out of his rowan- and ash-wood padded crib, holding him to her chest. His tiny fists ball and he arches his back away from Andromeda, legs wriggling helplessly. His nappy is heavy and damp, his little face is pink with facile outrage at the discomfort of the sodden mess.

Andromeda lays Teddy out on the small changing table next to the crib and removes the offending item of clothing. She gently cleans him up and dusts a fine layer of cornflour scented with dried lavender over his bum before tucking and pinning a new nappy. Ted had always done this the muggle way whilst singing nursery rhymes at Dora, and Andromeda had taken to doing it with Teddy. (Ted had been the oldest of eight, so had plenty of experience by age eleven of changing nappies and assisting with feedings.) Teddy gurgles up at her and Andromeda gently prods the bottle she carried in from the kitchen with her wand to heat it up.

As she feeds Teddy his breakfast, there is a tapping at the window. Owl post this early is not unusual in the Tonks household, for Andromeda is not the only one who doesn’t sleep. Waving the window open for the tufty little thing, she tosses a few treats at the bird and, balancing Teddy and his bottle on one leg, rips the twine off open using her free hand and teeth. The writing is Bill Weasley’s and the letter springs from its tight roll.

⇝

_Dear Med,_

_I’d guess you’ve finished giving evidence by now and hoping this finds you and Teddy undisturbed by the reporters who’ve been hounding most of the us the last several months. Fleur and I have come back from France to find mum and dad in a much better state than when we left. I hear this is in no small part down to you - thank you for reaching out to them these past few months. I know it can’t be an easy time for you, but mum seemed to find sorting through all our old baby things comforting._

_I write with news which might be quite unsettling and I’m sorry for that. My former colleagues inform me that Gringotts have a new appointee to oversee the Commision on War Reparations - a woman named Delia Kiddleston. She’s sound, I worked with her in Egypt on a six month placement a few years back when I was still a curse-breaker for the bank. I understand that she will be looking at the joint Malfoy and Black holdings alongside their sentencing._

_The really unsettling bit follows. There have been a few very unorthodox sentencing arrangements due to the fact that Kingsley has temporarily shut Azkaban for refurbishment and to get rid of the remaining dementors. The Wizengamot also seem to have taken a creative approach to their rehabilitation mandate. Some family members have been volunteered into providing secure accommodation to those who are convicted of contributory negligence or who have been granted leniency due to having reneged or otherwise aided the resistance._

_No one has said no yet, although detailed arrangements are still being made for transfer of custody; I’m not sure what would happen if someone did say no, since there aren’t enough prison places to begin with. The public outcry if a custodial sentence was waived would be immense. Kingsley and I both suspect that your sister could be considered for this type of sentencing - Draco is likely to be viewed as too young to have been criminally responsible, despite his involvement in the plot to murder Dumbledore. Harry and Snape’s evidence absolved him of most responsibility in that regard, despite his thwarted efforts to sabotage Harry’s mission and nearly killing Ron and that girl. So he won’t be likely to face any sentence._

_I think there are some interesting times ahead and I’m very sorry to put it to you so bluntly, but I expect you’ll be asked about it by the press or even the Wizengamot sooner than later once the Commission findings are made public, so I thought you should hear it from one of us first._

_Sorry to end on that note, but Fleur has the sleeping draught ready and I don’t dare skip it for a third night in a row. This information is really supposed to be under wraps so this letter will safely burn itself once you’ve finished reading._

_Please come for tea next Thursday - we’d love to see you and Teddy._

_All our love,_

Bill

⇝

In the same moment, several things happen: Teddy sends his bottle flying across the room; Andromeda jumps as both baby and letter launch into respective outbursts, and the village clock strikes the fifth hour of the morning. It is going to be a very long month.

 


End file.
